Castle Pines
by shersocks
Summary: After making a deal with Bill, Dipper is captured by the demon. Unable to escape, he decides to get comfortable until he can come up with a plan to get in Bill's favor and back in his body. (warning: Stockholm Syndrome, kidnapping, underage,)
1. Captured

"Tick-tock, kid."

With a trembling grip, Dipper shook Bill's flaming hand. He felt his stomach lurch and his skin chilled-tingled. The smell of lightning filled him and the blair of a train's horn hit him hard, making him lose his breath as he lurched forward, falling, falling, falling into the emptiness. He felt the breeze of being pulled just a bit too quickly brush the hair out of his face as he held onto Bill. Fell into Bill. Fell through Bill.

He saw himself. He saw his body, and his new ethereal form. He saw Bill. He saw Bill in himself as Bill as himself in Bill in his body as Dipper.

And Bill saw him.

"Thanks a lot, kiddo!" Bill smiled. "It's been so long since I had something as physical as this!"

Dipper, exaggerating his concern, shouted, "Give me back my body!"

"Tut tut tut, Dipper," said Bill, "A deal's a deal. Fair trade and all that. I can't give you your body back, but I can give you something else!" Bill produced a sno-globe into his hand in a burst of flame. Inside was a tiny castle and a small forest of pine trees. "I hope you can swim!" he shouted in delight. "Come here, my little pet." Raising the sno-globe, he began to chant.

Upon hearing this, Dipper started to get away as fast as possible, but to no avail. The globe's glass cracked, and water started gushing out, flooding the tiny attic. As the water touched Dipper's ghostly foot, it latched on, and pulled him down.

"I can't have you running around causing any kind of TROUBLE, CAN I?" Bill jeered as Dipper was slowly being dragged into the sno-globe by the globe's enchanted water. "I'll just keep you with me until I'm done with this vessel of mine.

Dipper screamed as he was sucked into the globe, now tiny. He watched as the cracked glass repaired itself, confining him to the grounds of the globe's castle.

Bill held the globe in both hands and peered inside. "You're mine now, aren't you, Dipper? You're not getting out a-n-y-t-i-m-e soon," he cackled, peering in onto his prize. The water distorted Dipper's image slightly, but not enough for Bill to really care. "And don't bother trying to phase through THIS glass. You might be able to float through anything else, but I made this glass just for you. Don't worry, Dipper, you'll never escape." And with that, Bill shoved the sno-globe into the inner pocket of his vessel's vest.


	2. Exploration

As Bill walked in Dipper's body, the water in Dipper's prison sloshed around, causing him to float slightly back and forth. Not heeding the demon's warning, Dipper floated his spectral self towards the glass, and attempted to phase through. As he touched the glass, he was shocked by a strong force, and shot backwards to the fake grass of the globe's ground. Bill was right. Dipper couldn't escape.

From outside, he could hear Bill exclaim, "Pain is hilarious!"

He stood up and rubbed his hands together. Wait, was he actually touching something and not going through it? He walked over to one of the many pine trees that surrounded the castle and put his hand up to it, expecting to fall through. Instead, he leaned on it, fully supported by his noodle arm and the plastic tree's trunk. He didn't understand how he was both solid and breathing under water, but he was too shocked to think about it.

Backing away, he examined his hands. He turned on his heel and ended up face to face with the castle. The giant wooden doors were at least five times his new, miniature height. The plastic castle was a light gray, with several dark gray bricks painted on. The four spires on the corners plunged upwards towards the strange glass of the globe. Triangle windows were sporadically scattered on the outside of the castle.

Dipper sighed, and said, "Well, here goes nothing." He pushed on the brown, plastic door, and to his amazement, it swung open. He stepped gingerly onto the red carpet that spanned from the door into the unlit black abyss of the inner castle. As he roamed further into the castle, torches on the walls blazed to life. Again, Dipper wasn't sure how on earth something physically impossible could be happening, like fire underwater, but he thought it might have something to do with Bill's magic.

The corridor was far reaching, with hallways branching off at regular intervals in between pillars, and ended abruptly at a double staircase. Between the stairs there were bright yellow, triangular, double doors. At the top of the staircase, a large painting of Bill with his eye wide open stared at Dipper.

Dipper walked forward in uneasy amazement. The castle didn't look nearly this big from the outside. As he neared the staircase, he noticed a sign hanging from the left door handle. It read "Do not enter. I'm serious. Just don't open these doors, or something TERRIBLE will happen to you, and everything you love. I'm not kidding."

Of course, Dipper saw this as an invitation to open the door. He reached forward to the right door handle and tried to open it. But, he couldn't. It was locked. "Why have a sign saying 'do not enter' if the door is locked?" he mumbled to himself.

He turned around to go back down the hall when he saw a red sign shaped like an arrow with his name on it in white. The sign was pointing down one of the hallways that branched off from the main corridor. His interest was piqued.

He turned down the hall, and followed it's thinner red carpet. On the walls were torches, and professional looking paintings of strange sigils, along with the occasional one of Bill, all with his eye closed. Nestled between some of the paintings were small tables with vases full of both exotic and familiar flowers. The lighting was gloomy, but it seemed as though someone had made an effort to make this hallway seem bright and friendly. It didn't really work, in Dipper's opinion.

At the end of the hall was a plain wooden door. Dipper brushed his hand against it, expecting it to feel smooth like plastic. Instead, it was rough. This was actual wood.

In his surprise, he turned to one of the stone block walls and felt it. It, too, was real, and not plastic. Contrary to the unassuming outside of the castle, the inside was absolutely real, Dipper concluded.

With frightened curiosity, Dipper opened the door. On the other side was his room at the Mystery Shack, complete with mold spots and holes in the roof. Eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape, Dipper walked inside.

His bed was unmade, just like he had left it before he had been sucked into the sno-globe. In fact, everything was the same. Miniature golf clubs rested against the wall with a broken paper mache Eiffel Tower to keep them company. His dirty clothes were strewn about near his bed, and the lamp that he read by at night was still on. Mabel's bed was pristine, as she liked it to be, with sweaters of her own design donning the foot of her bed.

Dipper went over and sat on his bed. On the side table sat the journal. Comforted by the familiar sight, he picked it up and flipped it open. The pages, however, were all completely blank. All the comfort that the journal had brought him vanished as he turned from one blank page to the next. To keep himself from thinking about it, he tucked the journal under his bed.

He took his hat off and lied down on his back, arms outstretched. Staring at the ceiling, he realized how tired he actually was. All the excitement of getting pulled out of his body and into the sno-globe had really tuckered him out. Not to mention that he didn't get any sleep the previous night. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

"Wakey wakey!" A voice shouted.

Dipper felt something poking his face. He groaned and rolled over on his side in an attempt to block the oncoming pokes.

Instead, he was forcefully turned over onto his back. He rubbed his eyes and groggily opened them.

Floating slightly above him, giggling and poking his face, was Bill.

"So, how do you like it here?" Bill asked as Dipper scooched into the corner. "I made it just for you."

"Why did you kidnap me?" Dipper demanded in a shaky voice. He clutched his pillow to his chest as a completely useless makeshift shield.

Bill scoffed and waved his hand. "Nevermind that. Are you hungry?"

"That doesn't answer my question-wait, what?"

"I asked if you were hungry, silly. Here, have some pancakes!" With a flourish, Bill produced a stack of pancakes dripping with syrup on the foot of Dipper's bed. "Here you go, kiddo. Enjoy!"

And then Bill vanished. Color slowly returned to the room, and Dipper stared at the pancakes.

Now that he thought about it, he was kind of hungry. But there was no way that he would eat pancakes that a demon had given him. With an uneven breath, he stood. He picked up the pancakes and threw them through the triangle window. "That should do it," he mused.

His stomach, however, had other plans. It growled at him, prompting him to exit the room and look elsewhere for food.

As he wandered into the main corridor, he smelled the savory scent of cooking meats. Unable to resist, he followed his nose down the corridor into another offshoot hallway. This hallway had doors of various sizes on the walls. They ranged from almost touching the ceiling, to being no taller than Dipper's shoe. Some of the smaller ones were clustered in the middle of the wall in a pattern that resembled a honey comb. Dipper noticed that there were no pictures of Bill in this hallway. As he walked past an unusually normal sized door, he heard a screech, followed by a low rumble. He quickened his pace.

At the end of the hall was a great dining room. To Dipper, it seemed as though the ceiling was miles away. On the walls hung tapestries depicting blue flames, and various forms of Bill. Some tapestries were brightly colored, while others just had yellow and an array of grays.

Large, torchlight chandeliers hung from the ceiling, supported by thick, black, iron chains. The light that filtered down from the source was yellowish, making the whole room appear to glow with warm light.

Long wooden benches with tables sat in measured intervals. Upon each table were unlit candlesticks and empty plates. At each place setting, there were three forks, two spoons, and a large, serrated knife.

Dipper picked up a knife and put it in the inner pocket of his vest. He could use this later.

He continued to wander around, looking for the source of the delicious scent. In the back of the room, he noticed a hallway. He followed the dimly lit path. As he walked, the scent of food grew stronger. His stomach growled again.

At the end of the tunnel was a bright light. As he reached the end, he found himself in a brightly lit kitchen. Large pots with unknown content simmered on stove tops. Baskets of bread and fruit were set out, ready to be taken to the invisible masses that could inhabit the dining hall. Dipper peered into an oven, and saw a whole pig being roasted among pineapple and strange greens.

'Mable would hate that,' he thought to himself.

But the most peculiar thing that Dipper noticed was desserts that had been abandoned in the process of making them. Bowls full of batter sat neatly on the counter. Filled pies with no top crust seemed to be begging to be baked. Ingredients for ice cream were stacked in the corner.

And then it hit him that the kitchen was not currently staffed. He could take whatever he wanted.

He rummaged around for silver ware and somewhere to put his food. He greedily poured strange soups into bowls, and took fruit and bread from the basket. He took chunks of meat from the freezer, and put them in the oven to cook while he ate the food he already had.

When he was satisfied with the spread, he began to eat. He picked up a plump, ripe apple and took a bite. As he chewed, the apple turned rotten in his hand. He dropped it with a concerned shriek. He tried the bread, but it was incredibly stale. Upon further inspection, he noticed it was growing mold. He set it back down. In another attempt at eating, he tried sips of the soups. Each was cold and overly salted. So much so that he was unable to eat more than a bite of each. In a last ditch effort, he pulled the meat out of the oven, and after letting it cool, took a bite. It was cold as ice, and hard as a rock. He couldn't even bite into it.

He left his food, and walked back into the dining room. He was still stupidly hungry.

From the kitchen, he heard something fall with a clatter. "Who's been eating my dinner?" Bill's voice yelled. The call was quickly followed by more crashing sounds, and a fair amount of angry yelling.

Dipper took off. He ran as fast as he could down the hall with the weird doors. As he ran, he could still hear Bill griping. The doors behind him creaked open.

Soon, he was back in the main corridor. He looked over his shoulder, and saw a red glow coming from the hallway. Bill was angry.

Dipper shot down the hall his room was in, and jumped into the safety of the familiar attic. He scurried into his bed, and pulled the blanket over his head.

"Dipper," Bill sweetly called, his voice getting louder. "Dipper, where are you?"

Dipper pulled the blankets tighter around him. He knew a blanket wouldn't do much against a demon, but cowering made him feel slightly better anyway.

"Ah, Dipper, there you are."

Dipper froze as the demon entered his room. "Are you sleeping Dipper?"

When Dipper didn't answer, Bill left the room.

'That was a close one,' Dipper thought. 'I have to be more careful.'

"Why, yes, you do," Bill called down the hall. "Yes you do."


	3. Hunger

As Dipper started to calm down, he felt his limbs grow heavy. The rush of anxiety he had experienced caused him to become exhausted. It felt as though the mattress had tied him down, and he didn't have the energy to fight back.

"Ah, Dipper," a voice said. "Welcome to your dreams."

Around Dipper, everything was colorless. Shades of gray covered the trees, making the world look like an old time movie.

He slowly looked over his shoulder and saw himself. Well, he saw his body. Dipper knew it was Bill.

"Your dreams are boring," Bill commented.

"Don't insult my dreams, you shrunken pyramid. I just started dreaming."

"On the contrary, my little captive. This is the third dream you've had while in my lovely castle," Bill mused. "This is just the one I'm allowing you to remember."

"Get out of my head!" Dipper shouted.

Bill chuckled and said, "No way pipsqueak. I need breaks from the outside world, too. Besides, your head is full of secrets. And your body is… the best I could do. It'll work for now."

Dipper hummed in irritation. His stomach hummed in hunger.

Bill glared at Dipper. "You're hungry. You didn't eat the food I gave you, did you?"

"I- uh-" Dipper stuttered.

"I made it JUST FOR YOU!" Bill screeched. He arched his back, and raised a hand. In one motion, he uprooted several trees behind Dipper, and let them drop.

Dipper yelped, and dodged the trees. If this weren't a dream, he would be worried about getting hurt. Still, seeing Bill in his body, and the only thing in color, was incredibly unnerving.

Bill huffed, and slowly capped his anger. "No matter. You'll have to eat sometime. If you need something, just call! I have more business to attend to. Sweet dreams." Bill walked into the forest, leaving Dipper to his own devices.

As Dipper watched Bill go, the forest around him slowly came back into color. Again, his stomach rumbled. "How am I going to get out of this?" he whispered to himself. "Bill is right. I have to eat sometime. I have to escape."

And with that, his dream faded away.

XxXxXxX

"So, Mabel, Have you seen my journal recently?" Bill asked sweetly.

In Dipper's body, Bill sat on Dipper's bed, across from Mabel. Mable was busy knitting. On the foot of her bed, Waddles was snorting and munching on the blanket.

"Last I saw it was on your nightstand, Dipper," Mabel returned.

"Well, sister dear, it's not there anymore," Bill said with slight irritation.

Mabel shrugged. "Maybe Waddles took it. You know how he likes to adventure." She put her knitting down and picked up Waddles. "Did you take Dipper's journal?" She talked to Waddles as though he was a baby. "Did you take it? Did you? Oh, who's a good pig? That's right. You are!"

Waddles snuffled and started eating Mabel's hair. Mabel giggled.

Bill huffed and walked out of the bedroom. Mabel was useless.

XxXxXxX

Curled up on his bed in a fetal position, Dipper groaned. His stomach groaned back.

He wasn't exactly sure how long he had been stuck in the castle, but it felt like a few days. He slept twice, he knew that, but he didn't know for how long. In all reality, with the amount of time he spent in the attic, he could have been here for over two days.

Stomach pains drew him out of his thoughts. He took a deep breath in, and his stomach complained. He needed food.

Instead, he drank from the glass of water on the nightstand that never seemed to empty. Somehow, the inside of the castle didn't seem to be filled with water. But the entire castle was submerged in a sno-globe, right?

Now that he thought about it, ever since he tried to go through the glass, the water factor of the sno-globe seemed to disappear. He had become solid, too.

Distracted from his hunger, he decided that he needed to explore the castle grounds.

He stuck his head out of his bedroom door and looked around. No sign of Bill. He scurried down the gloomy hallway into the main corridor. Not looking behind him, he went out the front door.

The picture of Bill at the top of the double staircase closed it's eye.

Dipper quietly closed the door behind him. Now, on the outside, the door felt real. Dipper ran his hand along the outside of the castle. It was rough, like the inside. He bent down and picked a blade of grass. The grass was real, too. Looking up, all he saw was blue sky.

He walked down the gravel path that lead from the door of the castle to as far as he could see. He heard the chirping of birds as he walked. Taking a deep breath in, he smelled the scent of earth after a rainstorm. The sweet, slightly damp smell reminded him of the Mystery Shack. And Mabel.

In his anxiety about being captured, he had completely forgotten about his sister. He started to pace in worry. He hoped she was okay. What was Bill doing to his sister? Why had Bill taken Dipper's body? Suddenly flooded with worry, he leaned against a tree trunk.

And then his stomach rumbled, once again pulling him from his worries.

He looked back at the path. It didn't seem like he was trapped in the sno-globe anymore. With anxiety and hunger nipping at his heels, he ran down the trail.

"Oof!" he shouted as he hit an invisible barrier. He fell to the ground, and bumped his head on the hard earth. Sitting up, he rubbed his new bruise.

After recovering from the shock, he stood and put his hands in front of him. He slowly walked forward until his hands pressed against what felt like cool glass.

Dipper sighed. He couldn't escape.

Dejected, he turned and headed back to the castle. He surveyed the forest that decorated the castle grounds. The only trees were white pines. Dead pine needles carpeted the grass. There was very little underbrush, but Dipper did notice a single bush with clusters of white berries.

Berries! That meant food. He rushed over to the bush in excitement. As he neared, he noticed that the oblong berries were on red stems, and had a black dot at the tip. He quickly recognized the fruit as doll's eye. Just one or two berries was enough to kill him.

Again, he headed back toward the castle. He slowly opened the door, and stepped inside. His hunger was eating away his strength and will to fight.

Dipper leaned against the closed door of the castle slowly slid down the rough wood and landed on the floor. He curled his knees to his chest and fell to the side. He was exhausted. He didn't have enough energy to move. The hunger that had started out as a rumble had grown to a roar.

If he didn't get food soon, there would be trouble.

Recalling that Bill had said to call if he needed anything, he desperately shouted the demon's name, and waited.

XxXxXxX

Bill shut the door behind him. The Mystery Shack was so unassuming, but Bill knew that something was happening in the area. Not only had Dipper found one of the three journals, but there was also a strange energy pulse not too long ago.

He needed to get away from the shack so he could think. He wandered down the long dirt road that lead to town, all while examining trees. After spotting one that suited his fancy, he scrambled up the rough trunk, and perched upon a branch. He didn't at all mind the pine needles poking into his skin. In fact, he sort of liked the sensation of actually feeling something. Anything. Even if it was pain.

Bill quickly made a checklist of people who had a journal. He knew that Gideon had had a journal, but that one had disappeared. Dipper's journal was also missing. Plus, he still had no idea where the first journal was.

Perhaps Dipper's journal was somewhere in the shack. He had already scoured the Pines twins' room, but he was unable to find a trace of the book. Bill decided he would have to do a better job of looking, and get into some weird nooks and crannies of the Shack.

He also decided that he needed to find the journal Gideon had. Unfortunately, Gideon was currently out of the picture. Bill would have to do some investigation.

Thinking back, he could clearly smell how the book smelled. The book used to summon him to this plane of existence. It smelled heavily of salt and rotting things when it called for him, but lost the luxurious aroma once he had been fully summoned. Instead, it smelled simply of leather and old paper.

He pulled himself out of the memory and into the present. Concluding that he had enough of a plan for now, he threw Dipper's body out of the tree, hitting branches and laughing all the way down.

Bill landed with a crack. He felt something crunch in Dipper's body. The pain he felt emanating from his vessel's rib cage was intense. Bill realized he had broken a rib. Maybe two. The pain was delightful!

As a breeze blew through the trees, he heard a whisper. "Bill," the wind said.

Bill recognized Dipper's voice. The kid needed help. He was probably starving. Perfect.

AN:

Hey everyone! Thanks for reading this. I've spent a lot of time working on it. I'd like to say that although I do appreciate comments and good critiques, I do not appreciate backhanded compliments. Anyway, the next chapter is already ready to go, but you'll have to wait until next Sunday/Saturday. (I still haven't decided which day yet.) It's called "Behavior." If you have questions, hit me up at shersocks . tumblr . com See you next week!

p.s. listen to this: infinitelooper ?v=x_ds4pHrvvo


	4. Behavior

Dipper had nodded off on the floor of the castle while awaiting his savior. Bill, in his triangular form, watched the boy's chest slowly rise up and down. He fondly recalled breaking the child's physical body's ribs. What a sweet crack they made. He giggled at the thought.

The sound awoke Dipper. He forced his eyes open and stared at the formerly red, now colorless, carpet. It took a moment for his brain to register that the carpet was no longer the color it was supposed to be. With that understanding came the realization that the monochrome meant that Bill was here.

Bill.

Bill would help ebb his hunger. That's why Dipper had called him, right? Right.

"Bill," he mumbled.

"Well hello there, Dipper. Looks like you've started to fall prey to hunger. Would you like some help with that?" Bill crooned.

"Please. My stomach hurts. I'm so hungry."

Bill scoffed. "You can ask better than that."

Swallowing his pride, Dipper begged. "Please, Bill. I need this. I'll eat all of it. I won't throw food away anymore."

"Promise," Bill barked at Dipper's puny form.

"I promise," Dipper replied.

That's exactly what Bill wanted to hear. "Wonderful! I expect you to respect the food I give you. If you don't, I'll know. Now, I'll ask you again. Would you like some pancakes?"

Dipper gulped and nodded shakily.

"Great!"

Bill clasped his hands together, then slowly pulled them apart. In his palm rested a stack of pancakes, dripping in syrup. The plate floated down in front of Dipper, just as a fork appeared in his hand.

Dipper took a tentative bite. The chewy, fluffy pancakes were perfectly sweetened by the pure maple syrup. They smelled like butter and the Mystery Shack's kitchen, with a slight hint of cinnamon rolled in. The almost too hot pancakes warmed him from the inside out, comforting him.

He closed his eyes and sighed, rolling the flavors on his tongue. After a moment, he swallowed, and began to shovel pancakes in his mouth. They were too good. The best pancakes he had ever had were right in front of him. He didn't slow down until he couldn't swallow without a drink.

"Bill," Dipper said, "Can I please have something to drink?"

"Sure thing, Pines," Bill said. He waved his hand and a blob of water floated effortlessly above Dipper's head. Laughing, Bill allowed the water to fall on Dipper.

"What the heck, man?!" Dipper sputtered.

"I thought it would be funny, and I was absolutely right, kid," Bill chuckled. "You should have seen your face!"

"You know what?" Dipper bit out, "I'm done. Goodbye Bill." Dipper stood and grabbed the pancake plate. "I have water in my room." He stormed off, grudgingly eating the amazing pancakes. He was only eating them because he had made a promise. Not because they were really good, or anything.

"Sure thing, Dips. Catch you later. Remember, call if you need anything!"

As Dipper turned the to go down the hall that lead to his room, color slowly seeped into his vision.

Bill was a jerk, Dipper decided. He swore to himself that he wouldn't interact with the stupid triangle, with his stupid hat and his stupid eye, unless he absolutely had to. Stupid, stupid Bill.

The portraits of Bill on the wall of the hallway slowly opened and closed their eyes as Dipper walked by. They watched as Dipper sulked to his doorway.

Dipper didn't notice.

XxXxXxX

"Have you noticed Dipper acting a bit… unusual?" Wendy said quietly to Stan.

Dipper was walking around the gift shop, smelling clothes, and staring down stuffed animals.

"I don't really pay attention to that one. But, he has been less of a wimp than usual. He stands up to me and starts fights with woodland creatures. I like it!" Stan said, watching Dipper push his way out the front door. "There he goes! Sorry, Wendy. I gotta follow him and see what he fights today. I love conflict!"

Wendy sighed as Stan sprinted after Dipper. Dipper was acting weird. He wasn't as ready to go goof off with her friends. He was barely in the Mystery Shack, too. Usually, he would sit and talk to her during her work hours.

But now he was just…

Wendy groaned as her phone's text ringer went off. Checking it quickly, she saw it was Robbie. Screw that guy.

With that, she went back to work, not giving Dipper another thought.

XxXxXxX

That red haired girl was staring at him again. Like what he was doing was strange. After making sure that stuffed animal was no threat, Bill decided he needed to get away from her. She was cute, but she was giving him the creeps.

He meandered out the door into the forest. He took a deep breath in, enjoying the scent of earth and trees. Ah, how he absolutely hated humans. Not individually, of course. But the collective humanity was incredibly awful.

Not paying attention, he ran into an overweight, sunburned, bald man with sunglasses. The man's mint chocolate chip ice cream fell off of its cone and landed on Bill's head.

Bill seethed. "Outta my way, lobster man," he growled, shoving the guy outta his way.

From behind him, he heard a choked, hoarse giggle. It was probably Stan following him into the woods again.

Bill pinched the bridge of his vessel's nose in irritation. He just wanted to take a break from all of the idiotic mortal monkeys. To do that, though, he would first have to lose Stan.

He took off down the well trodden path, then hooked a sharp right into the woods. He could hear someone behind him trying to be stealthy and keep up, while failing at both. Bill then dove head first into the underbrush and rolled behind a pine tree. He heard Stan run past his hiding spot. Perfect.

Bill stood and turned to face the rough trunk of the pine tree. He ran his hand down it, hoping for a splinter as a trophy. Unfortunately, he had no such luck.

As he stood, he could feel his vessel becoming more difficult to move in. He realized he didn't have the energy to do much more. When was the last time his vessel had rested, as vessels often do? Too long. Bill had stayed up with the moon last night, searching the shack while everyone else was busy sleeping. Now, his vessel needed to sleep.

Bill got comfortable on the ground, and slowly pulled his true form out of the meat suit. Dipper's now empty body did what bodies do best: survive. Bill watched the body's chest slowly rise and fall.

Deciding that he was too bored not to do anything, he went to go check on Dipper.

XxXxXxX

Dipper sat on his bed with the now empty plate on his bedside table. He was racking his brains for a way to escape. From what he knew, there was some sort of invisible barrier keeping him in the designated area, making it impossible to escape from that way. In addition, it seemed as though he was no longer in a sno-globe, but instead in some sort of little world.

If only his journal wasn't blank.

There was still a large part of the castle that he had yet to explore. Maybe there was something useful out there.

Arming himself with the serrated knife he had swiped from the dining hall, he opened his bedroom door.

Carefully stepping out of his room, he walked down the hall. Once in the main corridor, he decided to see what was at the top of the double staircase.

As he ascended one side of the grand stone staircase, he tried as hard as he could to avoid eye contact with the giant portrait of Bill that decorated the top of the staircase. There were so many pictures of the demon in this castle. It was incredibly creepy. He always felt as if he was being watched. The only place he really felt comfortable was in his own room. There, there were no pictures of Bill to watch him. Only the familiar sights.

Except Mabel wasn't there. He thought she was annoying sometimes, but he had recently come to realize that he really loved her. He knew this already, but still. She had been so annoying before he made the deal with Bill. Not being around her for extended periods of time just made him long for her crazy sweaters and dumb jokes. He felt the grip of loneliness tear at his chest, making him feel heavy. Oh, Mabel.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he let the thought of his twin fall to the wayside. Since he was obviously going to be stuck in this castle for a while, he might as well keep his mind focused on escape.

From the top of the staircase, he could look down the grand hall and see to the door. A pathway with a thick guardrail snaked around the walls of the castle, supported by the pillars that separated the hallway entrances. The firelight that lit the first level so well did not do the upper path the same justice. Dark shadows graced the upper halls. Large wooden doors with strips of black metal to keep them in place did nothing to dash the eeriness of the upper level. Dipper could have sworn he saw a spider the size of his fist crawling in the shadows.

Although anxious, Dipper was not deterred. He was on a quest to get out of this castle. Choosing the left path, he crept forward, careful not to make any noise.

He did not get far. He watched as white lines traced a triangle in the darkness. A singular eye sat in the center. Dipper turned to run as color drained from his surroundings. In the same moment, Bill floated to the start of the hallway.

"Where you off to, Cupcake?" Bill asked, leaning on his cane.

Dipper, remembering his vow, did not speak to Bill.

"Come on, kid. Talk to me. We're all friends here. This is a safe place." Bill pulled a vapor flower crown out of the air and went to place it on Dipper's head.

Dipper turned his back to Bill.

"Are you going to ignore me now? This won't be a fun eternity if we don't have good, heartfelt conversations. Like in the movies," said Bill.

Still, Dipper didn't acknowledge that the demon had said anything.

"I see how it is, Dipper," Bill said. "Even after I gave you humanly sustenance, you still refuse to see me as your friend and caretaker. I'll leave you alone, then. Don't worry about food. It'll pop up in your room whenever you get hungry." Bill pulled a menu and pen from behind his back. "Mark things you like in here so I know what to have the castle make for you. Call if you need me." He dropped the flimsy paper menu to the ground, and the pen landed next to it with a clatter.

Dipper did not watch Bill leave.


	5. Vision

Dipper picked up the menu. Why did Bill want to cater to his food wishes? Dipper was, after all, just a prisoner in a castle.

He opened the menu to find a list of "gourmet" dishes, including bird's nest soup, and caviar. Gross.

As he kept looking, he saw stranger and stranger dishes, along with more familiar foods. Fried spiders and _shirokara_ were listed next to good old Macaroni and cheese. Traditional American foods like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches graced the menu, along with traditional dishes from other countries, like _balut_. Whatever that was. Dipper wasn't too inclined to find out.

On the drink portion, he saw something called "Hoihoi tatea." He didn't quite trust it, however… good? it sounded. Pitt cola, too, was on the list. He was all for that.

Dipper slowly went down the stairs, reading the strange things on the menu. He was still trying to decide if he should mark _beondegi,_ let alone anything else. He knew he would have to eat, but he wasn't sure if he had to put down what he liked. Maybe if he didn't say what he wanted to eat, he would just keep getting those delightful pancakes. Or maybe he would get a plate full of fried spiders.

He wasn't willing to take that chance.

He marked off all the dishes and beverages he recognized. Even if he didn't like something, it was still better than the giant grubs that were listed.

Dipper yawned.

How long had he been awake? How long had he even been here, for that matter? He had never seen a clock or anything. He would have to mark time somehow, lest he lose all sense of time.

He decided to mark time by how many times he had slept. Now, he had slept three times. He would just have to find some way to keep track. Relying on memory would not do, as memories tended to be faulty.

Grasping the pen, he pulled the journal out from under the bed. He flipped open the back cover and made three tally marks. He was too invested in the journal to write over pages that had information on them. Sure, the pages were actually blank, but he still couldn't bring himself to write on them. He would be working backwards.

XxXxXxX

When Bill came back, his physical form appeared to be rested. He quickly fused with the puppet, and sat up. It would be a while before he was used to the transition. Mostly because having two eyes meant he had depth perception.

He quietly stood up and surveyed the scene. The moon was new. The stars were out, there celestial glow granting the sky color in the absence of the moon's pure, filtered light. The pine that he had slept under was not alone in it's pursuit to grow tall enough to reach the stars. The trees were far enough apart to give Bill wide glimpses into the sky, but close enough together to add greenery to the view.

This was Bill's favorite time.

There was just enough light for the eyes of the human he inhabited to strike out a path. He crept slowly over the relatively even terrain, kicking small rocks as he went. The trees seemed to be pillars that held the roof like sky in place.

He took a deep breath in, reveling in the scent of nature. He caught the smell of pine, of dirt, of sweet flowers somewhere nearby, and of something dead, rotting. This was pure bliss.

As he drew out of the woods into the clearing of the Mystery Shack, his good mood slowly dissolved. The more time he spent with humans, the less he liked them. And although his human body offered him senses that his other form did not, he could not stand to be around other people while in this body. However, he could not leave except for at night when everyone else was sleeping, and that was the best time to explore.

As he walked inside, he was greeted by Mable.

"Dipper, where have you been?" she asked in a concerned tone.

"I feel asleep outside," Bill replied. "I didn't sleep during the night, and it was very comfortable out."

Mable huffed. "You missed taco night!" she said, waving her hands above her head. "You love taco night!* I had to fight off Stan and Waddles to make sure you had food tonight."

"Sorry sis," Bill said sharply, "I'll go eat now."

He sat down at the table, slightly apprehensive. This was the first meal he would have in Dipper's body. He wasn't exactly sure how food would taste to the boy's palate.

"I made the tacos for you," Mable said, grinning. "I know just how you like them." She had followed him in the room, and sat down across from him. She leaned forward with her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands.

Bill frowned. Mable watching him eat was kind of creepy.

Trying to ignore her, he took a bite of the taco. in a split second, he was overcome with the taste. The crunch of the shell and lettuce reverberated through his skull in an incredibly pleasant fashion. The meat, (beef? chicken? It all looked the same to him) carried a twang of dead things, and a slight spice that made his mouth tingle. The solidified, soured cream that was on top surprisingly did not taste spoiled. It was somewhat… satisfying.

Bill adored this human food.

He would have to make sure that Dipper got this sort of thing.

He slowly ate the tacos, savoring every bite. When he was finished, he shoved his plate away and quickly went into the attic.

He sat cross-legged on Dipper's bed facing the wall. He put his hands on the unfinished wood, feeling the fibers press into his puppet's soft flesh.

Where on Earth could that journal be?

XxXxXxX

When Dipper looked up from his tally marks, the menu was gone and a plate of tacos rested in it's place. That was weird. Tacos weren't even on the menu.

Not that he was one to complain. He happily shoved the tacos in his mouth. They tasted just like the ones at the Mystery Shack that Mabel made. As in, exactly like the ones at the mystery shack. What the heck?

He examined the taco. It looked like a regular taco. He shrugged and continued eating. He would have to thank Mabel for the food.

Mabel.

He was once again reminded of his twin. He put the taco back on the plate.

He felt the loneliness of being a separated twin weigh on him for the first time since he'd been here. How could he have let his sister slip his mind again? Was Bill doing something horrible to her? Was she okay? He was suddenly fraught with worry over his sister.

"Mabel," he crooned. "Mabel, Mabel, Mabel."

And Bill was with Grunkle Stan too. Maybe the old man was helpless against a demon. After all, Bill had gotten into Stan's head before. Maybe Bill was searching everyone's dreams and - turning them into zombies, or using them as slaves or- or worse!

Dipper rested his head on his pillow. Boy, did he worry too much about his dumb family. And boy, was he lonely. He had been here probably about three days, maybe more. He just couldn't tell.

There was no one to talk to besides that dumb triangle, and there was no way Dipper was going to converse with that guy. Bill was always there whenever Dipper left his room. He couldn't stand the loss of color and his flamboyant way of speaking. And those dumb hologram things that the guy made were infuriating.

Dipper decided not to leave his room. If Bill only came when he left his room, then he wouldn't leave. It was as if Bill existed just to annoy the heck out of him.

But he was lonely. More lonely than he had ever been before. As an analytical extrovert, he needed someone to share his ideas with. But there was no one _to _share ideas with.

Frustrated, he sat cross legged on his bed, facing the wall, and put his hands on the unfinished wood.

As he did, he felt a jolt. He quickly pulled his hands away from the wall and examined them. Concluding that there was no damage, he tried again. Again, he felt the jolt and removed his hands.

This piqued his curiosity. He was determined to figure out what was going on. Anticipating the shock, he scrunched his eyes closed and forced himself to keep his hands on the wall. After the initial shock, there was no more pain, but Dipper could see blurry images on the back of his eyelids.

Black and white hands pressed against a wall. He quickly recognized them as his hands. Behind him, Mabel's voice called out, covered in a haze of static. He couldn't make out what she was saying.

Dipper saw one of the hands pull off of the wall as the scene changed from wood to Mabel. Then the vision faded.

He opened his eyes, and pulled his hands from the wall. That was so… weird. What the heck? Confused, he began to talk out his confusions with the room.

XxXxXxX

Bill felt something prodding into his vision. Just two pokes, and then it felt like a blanket was placed on him. Ah, the feeling of being someone else's eyes.

Of course, he knew it was Dipper. As long as the kid was doing the same thing in the attic in the castle as he was in the attic at the Mystery Shack, Dipper would be able to look through. Bill knew this would happen when he made the room multidimensional when he first visited Stan's dreams. So yeah, the room was in two places at once, but on two different planes. The only time there was overlap of the rooms was when the two of them were in the same place at the same time.

Bill didn't mind. All he was doing was brainstorming where the journal could be. Not to mention that as soon as either of them took a hand off of the wall, the connection would be broken.

Behind him, he heard Mabel. Shoot. He was hoping to get away from the annoying flesh sack.

"Dipper, what are you doing?"

Bill turned away from the wall, and put his hand on his lap.

"I was just stretching, Maple," he said.

"It's 'Mabel,' actually," Mabel gently corrected.

"Of course it is! That's what I said. Anyway, I'm awful tired. I just want to rest up here alone for a little bit."

"But, weren't you just sleeping in the woods?" Mabel said, tilting her head.

Shoot. Bill had talked himself into a corner. "I... well, the walk was long and now I need to rest my muscles."

Mabel perked up. "Okay. Have fun!" She left the room, closing the door behind her.

Bill sighed. That was almost too close. He didn't want to use magic on any of the people in this house, or someone might notice the energy pulse. If he hadn't convinced Mabel of his plight, he would have had to wipe her memory. That would not have ended well.

Regaining his posture, he put his hands back on the wall.

This time, though, no one saw through him.

*This was in no way intended to be a reference to the infamous taco dipper fic. I haven't even read it.


	6. Stars

Dipper lay listless. Every morning, food would appear in his room, he would eat. When the next nips of hunger came to him, he would once again find food in his room. He would pace like a caged animal and tear at whatever food was presented to him. He had memorized the patterns in the wood. He had gone through all of the sweaters on Mabel's side of the room, and organized them by color. He spent hours with his hands pressed against the wall, waiting for the vision to return. When the next meal came, and it grew dark outside of his room, he would look out at the empty sky. No stars appeared to him. He found this incredibly unsettling.

When he woke up the next day, he would add a tally mark.

Fifteen. There were fifteen tallies today. He checked every few hours just to make sure the number of tallies didn't change. He gnawed on the bone that had come with whatever meat he had eaten for his evening meal. This was no way to exist. But there was no way he was going to interact with the Illuminati Dorito. Even if it meant slowly sliding into insanity.

Well, if Bill listened instead of talked maybe he would be willing to stomach the guy.

Dipper shook his head. What was he thinking? Bill would just worm his way into Dipper's head and influence him.

He would not allow that to happen.

XxXxXxX

Where was the journal? Where was the journal? WHERE WAS THE JOURNAL?! Bill had tore up the house. He had even taken shovels into the woods and dug random holes in anger.

He walked down the stairs and sat at the table. Stanford was sitting in his armchair in front of the television. As he walked by, he mumbled, "hey, old man. You seen my journal?"

"Oh," Stan said. "Yeah. It's right here. I forgot I borrowed it." He reached behind the chair and pulled it off of the floor. He then dropped it in Bill's hands.

It had been right there for two weeks? Bill had been in this wimpy meat suit for TWO WEEKS and the object of his desire was RIGHT THERE the WHOLE TIME?!

"Thanks, bud," Bill said. He grasped the book in both hands and gritted his teeth. He had to hide his frustration and joy. He quickly ran up the stairs to Dipper's bed and sat down. He opened the journal.

XxXxXxX

Dipper was sitting on his bed, counting the tallies for the eighth time that day. He felt a jolt run through his entire body, making his hair stand on end. When he blinked, the color he once saw was now shades of gray.

The journal rested in his lap. Except this journal had writing. Dipper could make out only fuzzy words and blurred pictures.

In a fluid gesture, the journal was closed, and who he was seeing through moved.

The vision faded.

As Dipper's color returned, he shivered. It had happened again. He had seen something. After two weeks of trying to recreate the vision, he finally did it. But what did he do?

He stood and paced, journal still in hand. If only he could find some sort of pattern. Both times he had been on his bed. And both times… Well, he couldn't think of anything else that had happened. both times.

Irritated, he threw the journal on the bed. It bounced shut, then rested with the front cover open.

Sighing, Dipper walked over to the journal and went to close it and tuck it away. But to his surprise, grainy images began to bleed onto the page. Gray letters were printed on a black page, and cloudy pictures began to take shape. The book looked mostly as if someone had dropped ink into a glass of water. The non-color bloomed from separate places, and slowly became clear.

Dipper recognized it right away. The colorless page was the first page of his journal.

XxXxXxX

Bill sat on the bed, and opened the book. This was fantastic! Aside from the burning rage due to the fact that the journal had been in an incredibly obvious place from the start, he was elated.

As he scanned the page, he felt pressure on his eyes. He was covered in the feeling of a wool blanket.

Once again, Dipper was seeing through him. This would not do. He quickly moved away from where Dipper was, and the feeling faded.

Good.

Bill then began his joyous plan. He needed to destroy the journal. But, he would want to do it slowly. Intimately. The only way that he would get the most pleasure from the destruction of this wealth of knowledge was by taking it apart piece by piece over a series of weeks.

In celebration, he tore the first page from the journal, and walked over to the candle on Dippers desk. Ah, the joys of burning.

He dipped the corner of the paper into the flame. He watched and giggled with glee as the flame quickly consumed the fuel. The paper slowly crumpled to ash and fell like snow onto the desk. As the flame reached his fingers, he held tight, allowing the fire to lick and scorch his skin.

He had yet to experience a burn in this body. It hurt quite a lot, he concluded. He sighed in contentment. How he loved pain and destruction.

"Hey, Dipper!" Stan called. "Get down here and watch the shop. I see families on the horizon. Families with money. Ah… money."

Bill growled. He was in the middle of enjoying himself, and now he had to stop what he was doing and go do something he hated. At least he had the burn to keep him company.

As he walked into the shop, he saw Wendy.

"Hey short stuff," she called. "You done acting weird?"

Weird? Bill didn't know what she was talking about. He hadn't had a staredown with stuffed animals for a while.

"Sure thing, toots," he said. "Anything for you."

Wendy giggled awkwardly and picked up her phone.

Bill watched in irritation. What was with this girl? She was definitely suspicious. She needed to be… taken care of.

Wendy's phone vibrated. She picked it up and groaned, then set it back down.

"Who was that?" Bill asked.

"Robbie," Wendy replied. "I broke up with him forever ago and he still won't leave me alone! That guy is a class A jerk."

Bill smiled. This could be the way to get her to stop paying attention to him. All he would have to do is get Robbie, whoever that was, to get her off his back. Preferably by making her so upset that she couldn't pay any mind to his schemes.

"What's his number? Maybe I can give him a stern talking to."

Wendy shook her head. "Nah, it's cool. I can handle this by myself."

What else could he do? He turned away from her and began to pace.

Just then, Wendy's phone went off again.

"Ugh," she said. "He's messaging me on facetionary." She pressed a few buttons on her phone. "And blocked," she said triumphantly.

Facetionary? Maybe he could use that to contact Robbie…

He turned to wendy and spouted, "Sorrygottagotothelibrarygotta-uh-looksomethingupbye," then ran out the door.

"Hey, Dipper!" Wendy called. She said something else, but Bill was too far away to hear it.

He went as fast as he could to the library.

XxXxXxX

Dipper was going stir crazy. After the vision, he desperately needed someone to talk to about it. Or at least something to do that wasn't in this room.

That was it. He couldn't stand to be in here any longer. He quietly opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

The torches that were so bright before were now cold. No flame cast shadows on the walls. The vibrant flowers that once lined the hallway were now dead and dried. What the heck happened?

Dipper needed light. He raced down the hall to the main corridor, then shot through the big double doors. He was outside.

Thank goodness. He strolled along the path, then sat in the grass. He wasn't cooped up.

The new development made him smile. The sky was starting to darken, but he didn't mind. This was one of his favorite times of day.

He watched as lazy clouds floated past him, and the trees dropped needles. He sat down on the grass, legs straight in front of him, and tilted his head toward the sky. The feel of the grass on his skin made him want it more. He laid himself down on the grass and stuck his arms out. He sighed and closed his eyes, enjoying the breeze and the cool grass.

"Do you like the world I made for you?"

Dipper opened his eyes. The world around him was grey. Crap.

"Dipper, did you hear me?"

Dipper sat up and turned around to face Bill. He scowled at Bill, hoping to scare him away with a look.

"I'm sorry I haven't come to visit in a while. I thought you might need some space. Not to mention that last time we encountered each other you gave me the silent treatment." Bill floated closer to Dipper. A little too close.

Dipper wanted to comment, but he had promised himself that he would not. He had grown up with a sister; he needed to be stubborn.

"If you don't say anything, there's nothing I can do to make this world better for you."

Better. The place was already pretty nice, but the lack of stars was off putting, and there was no one to talk to. Could Bill really give him that?

Dipper swallowed. "Um… Do you think there could be stars?"

Bill laughed. "Of course there can be stars, Pine Nut! I'll even put up constellations from where you live." Bill snapped his fingers, and stars slowly blinked to life in the dark half of the sky.

Dipper looked up in amazement and smiled. The stars glittered. Among them he saw The Big Dipper, the star formation for which he was named.

"Is that all you want right now?" Bill asked.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," Dipper replied.

"Then off I go. Things to do, people to see. Toodles, kiddo," Bill said with a flourish. He folded onto himself several times over, and slowly disappeared.

Dipper smiled. That was kind of nice of Bill. Frowning, he shook his head. He couldn't let that guy win.

After taking one last glance at the sky, he went back inside the castle.

Dipper was confused. Why on earth was his captor being so kind? Bill was giving him everything he needed and wanted. Why not just throw him in a dungeon and give him bread crumbs?

He needed someone to talk to. He needed someone to talk this out with.

Gosh, he was lonely.

**AN:** Hey everyone! Your reviews have been really nice. I'm rather curious about how you guys come across this story. Did a friend tell you? Did you search it? Please, let me know! See you next week.


	7. Kind

For the past week and a half, Dipper had taken to doing everything in Mabel's bed. Sleeping, eating, whatever. He needed the comfort being near his twin. Still, he could never quite get the feeling of not being _alone. _It was so potent that it pierced even his dreams, causing him to see vivid pictures of those he loved.

When he'd wake up from those dreams, he would forget that he was alone. When he realized where he was, it would only serve to hurt him more. The kid was slipping into depression. Hell, he was already depressed. Every day he would move less and less.

Bill loved this.

The demon had been watching, and manipulating the boy's dreams. It was only a matter of time before the kid broke down and accepted any kind of affection he could get. Soon, Bill would be the only one that the boy would trust. Soon.

But Bill still had things to do. He had been unable to find time to destroy the journal, and he wanted to do it slowly. The journal that had caused him so much grief was sitting under the bed, just waiting for something to happen. He had to destroy it, but how? With Stan keeping him busy every second, and Mable seemingly always there, there was nothing he could do to it.

XxXxXxX

"We need to talk about Dipper."

Wendy, Stan, and Mabel had all noticed it. Mable could no longer rationalize her twin's strange behavior with lack of sleep, or not eating. Stan was getting worried that Dipper's new attitude was something more than a phase. Wendy was worried that her little bud might be doing something crazy.

"The kid's gone bonkers," Stan said, resting his elbows on the kitchen table. "He's rarely ever here, and he certainly isn't making me any money. He won't even listen to me anymore."

"I miss him a lot," Mable sighed. "We used to do everything together but now he won't even let me come with him on adventures. It's been me and Waddles for a while now. I think even Waddles misses him. I know I'm not the best at solving things, but still, he's my brother."

Wendy nodded. "He's just… different now."

"We need to talk to the runt," Stan said.

"How would we get him to listen? How would we get him cornered so he won't leave?" Wendy asked. She frowned and rested her chin on her hand.

"Even I don't know what to do," Mable said, "But we have to think of something. For Dipper's sake."

XxXxXxX

Dipper had been awake for some time, but he didn't move. His stomach was on the mattress, and he was looking toward the wall. His stomach growled, but he didn't eat. His limbs felt like weights, and it was hard to form thoughts. He hadn't been keeping track of how often he slept, either. This was absolutely awful.

He couldn't find the energy to yell when Bill materialized in front of him. He just watched the color seep out of the room.

"Hey, Dipper," Bill said.

Dipper didn't reply.

Bill, seeing Dipper's depressed state, floated to the foot of the bed and sat down. Dipper didn't stop him.

"Ya know Pine, I'm not that bad of a guy," Bill said softly. "I help people. What you saw of me was just me helping out Gideon. He asked for help, and I gave it. It's what I do. I give."

Dipper scoffed.

Bill looked at Dipper's obscured face. "I promise I'm not lying. I'm a demon. I can't lie. Contrary to what you might think, we're bound by a code of honor. That's why I have to make deals."

This made sense to Dipper. He didn't like that it did, but he couldn't really help how his brain was working. He was having a hard time fighting off Bill, and allowing him to stay and talk was much easier than exerting the energy he didn't have to make the guy leave.

"Know what, Dipper?" Bill said, "I even helped you out. You might not realize it yet, but this place will be exactly what you want. You won't want anything else."

Dipper's stomach growled again, louder. Loud enough for Bill to notice.

"Have you not been eating? When was the last time you fueled that body of yours?"

Dipper half shrugged.

"Here, let me help." Bill floated over and took a forkful of pancake off of the plate. "Say 'ah!'" he said, shoving the fork into Dipper's mouth.

Dipper chewed. He hummed, letting the taste of food consume him. The bite made him realize just how hungry he actually was. Finding strength, he managed to push himself into a sitting position. He leaned against the wall.

Bill wordlessly put the plate of pancakes onto Dipper's lap, and put the fork by his hand. "You eat up now," he said, patting Dipper's cheek.

Dipper's thoughts halted as he felt Bill's strangely warm hand on his face. He jerked away when his mind came back to him, but soon found himself leaning into the hand. He closed his eyes and pretended it was Mabel.

Bill was glowing. This was exactly what he needed to happen. Just one touch and the boy would crave more.

"Dipper, open your eyes," Bill gently ordered.

Dipper complied.

"Look at me," he said, watching Dipper's eyes focus on him. "I care about you, kid. It might not always seem like it because I have a hard time controlling myself sometimes, but I really do care." He took his hand away from Dipper's face, and slowly faded into oblivion.

Dipper sat completely still, trying to recapture the heat of Bill's hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes and focused, focused, on the place where Bill's hand had been. It was the first contact he had had in so long. Weeks.

It was strange to Dipper that Bill had been so kind. Why had he said those things? Dipper contemplated the ramifications of his newfound knowledge and munched on pancakes. Man, Bill was weird.

But Dipper kind of liked him.

**AN:** Sorry for the short update. This week has been kind of a hassle, and with halloween, it was difficult to write. Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you all had a great halloween!


	8. Burning

"What the heck are you doing here?" Wendy yelled.

"What do you mean, 'what the heck am I doing here,' You told me over facetionary that you wanted me to come visit today." Robbie stood in front of Wendy, almost too close.

"Don't lie, you weirdo. Everyone in this gift shop knows I don't like you anymore."

A family of blondes looked over. "Yeah, she broke up with you, you emo loser," the family said in unison, which was not uncommon for this family to do. They had been coming in every day for the past week, saying the same thing together.

Wendy crossed her arms. "We broke up ages ago," she shouted, "and now you're trying to worm your way back. Do you honestly think that I would believe that I told you to come here? Really, Robbie? That's low."

Robbie fumbled for his phone, trying to pull up the facetionary app. "Look," he said, "you asked me to come over."

On the screen was a private chat where Wendy was begging for him to come back.

"I told you I was supposed to be here," Robbie gloated.

Wendy was shocked. "But- I didn't…" Wendy stuttered. How did this happen?

Bill, who had been watching the altercation, snickered. It appeared as though his trip to the library had been a success.

When he got there, he hacked onto Wendy's account with ease. Her password was "plaid," so it wasn't like there was any real roadblocks anyway.

He un-blocked Robbie, and sent the messages. In the process, he asked Robbie not to say anything else, lest Wendy's parents get suspicious. That's why Wendy hadn't noticed anything had changed until now.

Bill was gleeful watching the two argue. Now that Wendy was out of the way, it was time to take care of Mabel.

He snuck into the attic where Waddles was napping. Mabel was just downstairs in the kitchen, so he would have to be quiet. He cradled the pig, and walked out of the room, avoiding the places where the old wood floor was prone to creaking.

He made his way outside, and put waddles down. Waddles was still sleeping, but that was soon to change. Bill smacked Waddles' flank hard.

The pig squealed and ran off into the forest.

"Mabel! Mabel," Bill called, running into the house, "Mabel, Waddles ran off!"

Mabel gasped. "Oh no!" she cried, and dashed out the door after Waddles.

Bill chuckled. Only one more person to take care of. Stanford.

The previous night, Bill had used his demon form to sneak into Stan's office and take the safe that Stan hid behind a portrait, à la Mr. Krabs. He had gone into the woods and buried it near a tree. Upon his return, he left a note saying that someone had taken his safe and hid it. On the bottom of the note were several clues.

Now, Bill ran into Stan's office and picked up the note. "Grunkle Stan," he called, walking into the T.V. room where Stan was seated on his recliner. "I went into your office to get a pen, and I found this note on your desk." Bill waved the paper in front of Stan's face.

"Give me that," Stan said, tearing the paper away from Bill. He took a moment to read it, then stood up. "Keep on eye on things. I have to go on a rescue mission."

Stan went solemnly out the front door, not bothering to put on a real shirt or pants.

Bill watched him leave in slight disgust, whispering "Have fun finding it, you monstrous old man," to himself.

Now that everyone was adequately distracted, Bill stole himself up to the attic. He closed the shutters, locked the door, and turned off the lights. After fishing out the journal from under the bed, Bill lit a candle.

With the candle light flickering and reflecting off his face, he grinned. He slowly tore out the second page, listening to the sharp riiiiiip of the paper. He lifted the page slightly above the tip of the flame, and waited for the paper to heat up enough to combust on it's own.

It took a while, but Bill didn't mind. He liked to think that he was torturing the paper. He was punishing it for being the Author's tool of information. An accomplice to an unforgivable crime.

When the paper did ignite, he made sure that it burned slowly. He held the paper horizontally so gravity didn't aid in the incineration of the sinful page. He laughed as the heat grew on his fingers. When the flame started to lick his skin, he let the paper fall. The fire ate the rest of the paper before it reached the ground.

Bill tore another page out, and started again.

XxXxXxX

Dipper fell asleep that night with his cheek still burning from Bill's touch. When he awoke the next morning, and added a check mark, he found his hand drifting to that spot.

He hadn't realized how starved he was.

He was quick to shake the thought from his mind, but it soon crept back. After weeks of not talking, or touching anyone, his mind hungered for more.

He would not let that happen, though. He would stay strong, and make sure not to fall prey to Bill again.

But there was a weight on his chest. This morning, he had awoken to find that his depression was manifesting itself as a ball and chain. He found it difficult to get out of bed, but he did anyway. By the time he was on his feet, he was once again exhausted. He had to think of something to do to convince himself that staying strong was worthwhile.

After a moment, he thought of it. The journal.

He grabbed his journal and stood by the nightstand. He flipped the front cover and examined the page. The negative colors were enticing. Knowing that there would be nothing on the next page, he turned it anyway.

In that moment, he felt like he had been shocked. To his surprise, he found that he was having another vision. In front of him was a candle, and a burning page. Dipper recognized the writing as the second page of the journal. He gasped.

He heard the distinct sound of paper tearing, then saw the third page of the journal hover over the candle flame. He watched his precious journal page catch fire, and slowly burn out of existence. As the the flame reached the hand, he felt his own hand sting with a burn.

From behind him, he heard the door open. The image he was seeing whipped around to face forward, and the vision faded.

Dipper blinked as the color returned. His hand no longer stung, thank goodness.

He sat on the bed and examined the book. The two pages that he saw burn were now starting to become colored. They were the negative of the original journal's pages.

The black pages with white writing slowly came into focus.

Dipper desperately hoped that this did not mean that the actual pages of the real journal were now gone forever.

XxXxXxX

"Hey, Dipper, where is everybody," Soos said, opening the attic door.

Bill whipped around, and felt an invisible shroud fall from him. He recognized this as the end of a shared vision.

Not only had he been interrupted by this overweight clown, but he had been so wrapped up in the joy of burning that he hadn't realized Dipper had been spying.

"They're all busy," Bill said curtly. "Stan and Mabel went out, and Wendy is talking with Robbie in the gift shop."

Soos scratched his head. "Huh, That's weird. They were all here like, ten minutes ago. Thanks anyway little dude," Soos said, turning to go down the stairs, and leaving the door wide open.

Bill walked over and quietly shut the door. He would have to go fix what Dipper had seen. He could not allow any more visions to go unchecked. He rested himself on the bed, took off Dipper's hat, and pulled himself out of his vessel.

XxXxXxX

As Dipper studied the pages, he noticed that the color of the room was draining away. Was he having another vision?

"Hey, Pine Tree," Bill said.

Dipper looked up from the book. "Oh, hi Bill," he said. "Uh… What… What are you doing here?"

Dang it. He had told himself he would avoid Bill, but here he was, talking to him. He needed to stop right now.

Bill floated over and sat on the bed next to Dipper. "I just came to check on you. I thought you might be lonely."

Dipper looked down at the journal in his lap, avoiding eye contact with Bill.

"How about you close that and talk to me," Bill said, reaching for the journal.

Dipper slammed it shut, and moved it away from Bill's hand. There was no way he would allow that stupid triangle to touch the journal.

"Ya know, Dipper, I came from a really crazy place," Bill said, abruptly changing the topic. "Where I come from, I can hardly move. It feels like I'm stuck in wet cement all of the time. I can't use magic, I can't teleport. I can't do much of anything. Same with all the other demons that live with me."

Dipper looked over at Bill, interested.

"So when I get summoned to a different dimension, I always try to make the most of it. I try to experience what the inhabitants of the realm experience. I use my magic all I can, and I do what I enjoy."

Dipper nodded in understanding.

"No one can really blame me all that much for wanting to be freed from obligations and enjoy the world when they keep in mind how I live most of the time. All I really want is a bit of freedom. You understand, right?"

Dipper nodded once more.

"I really hope you open up to me, Dips. I would hate for us to be 'roomies' and not talk to each other ever. You're a cool kid."

"Uh, thanks," Dipper stuttered.

Bill floated up from the bed and suspended himself in front of Dipper. "Come on kiddo, let's bring it in." He held his arms wide, ready for a hug.

Dipper, feeling conflicted, mirrored Bill, and leaned in.

He was surprised at how smooth Bill was. He had expected rough brick, but instead found that he was smooth, almost soft. And boy was he warm. Dipper leaned in and closed his eyes involuntarily. He took a deep breath in, finding that Bill smelled of dust and desert.

Bill put his hand on the back of Dipper's head, and ruffled the boy's hair.

Everything was going perfectly with the kid.

"Time for me to go," Bill said softly into Dipper's ear. "I have things I need to take care of."

Dipper felt the crash of disappointment falling on his chest. "Oh, okay," he said, reluctantly letting go of Bill.

"See you later," Bill said, waving. He was gone in a flash of blue flames.

Dipper shook his head as his thoughts cleared. Had he really just hugged Bill? Was he insane?

Then again, Bill, for all his faults, seemed really sweet. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. Dipper sincerely hoped he wasn't.

**AN:** I'm really sorry for the unannounced hiatus. I had a huge paper due for class this past Monday, and so I spent the whole month working on it.


	9. Questions

Dipper's chest burned. He put his hand on his shirt, feeling the residual warmth of Bill. He tore his shirt off, and put his hand flat on his skin, feeling the groove of his sternum, and the subtle beat of his heart.

He did not feel Bill's heart. Do demons even have hearts?

After listening to Bill talk about what it was like back at his home, Dipper was insanely curious about demons. What's that place called? Do they eat anything? What are the social norms of the demonic culture? Is there some kind of judicial system? How do demonic bodies function? The questions poured from his mind.

He grabbed his pen and started to scribble down the questions under the tally marks. There was soon no space left on the page.

The next time he saw Bill, all his questions would be answered.

XxXxXxX

Bill blew out the candle in irritation. He looked out the window, just as the sun touched the tree tops. In the now darkened room, he pondered.

Where could he destroy the book in an enjoyable way without coming up with another scheme? Nowhere came to mind. He leaned his forehead against the window, and watched as the trees engulfed the sun, and the night's first stars kissed the sky.

Could… Could he bring the journal to Dipper's castle? Even he wasn't sure of the limitations of the world he had created for Dipper. He would have to try bringing it to Castle Pines sometime. He picked up the journal and held it to his chest, like a mother would hold her child.

"I can't wait to destroy you," he whispered to the book.

He was started, and spun around as the door opened with a crash, flooding the room with light. Mable's silhouette stood in the doorway, Waddles under her arm.

Mable thought Dipper's shadow was more geometric than she was used to. For a moment, she could have sworn that Dipper's shadow was a triangle. She blinked and shook her head.

When Mable's eyes were closed, Bill used his magic to turn on the light, eliminating his shadow. He knew that although the body was very good at some things, it could not conceal his true form in the presence of an extremely good person when he was caught off guard.

The girl's pure soul irritated him to no end. He knew that if he were to be found out, she would be the first to know. The goodness in her was both attracted to and repelled by his demonic vileness.

Mable dropped Waddles, and he hopped on the foot of her bed. "Hey Dipper," she said, "What are you doing?"

"I was just enjoying the sunset," Bill said, without hesitation.

"I thought you were going to help me get Waddles," she said.

"When I saw you running, I knew you'd get him." Bill turned his back to her

"Oh, well, okay…" she said. "I uh, guess I'll leave you alone, then…" Mable was unused to Dipper's new, cold attitude. The two of them had been best friends forever; they had known each other since conception. His new tone made Mable feel like there was a rock in her stomach. She needed to leave.

She shut the door behind her, and leaned against it. What the heck happened to Dipper?

Bill needed to see if he could burn the book in Dipper's little haven. Sure, he had been there once already today, but the kid needed a checkup. And he needed to get away from Mable.

He tucked Dipper's body in for an early bed time, then let himself slip out of his vessel. He picked up the book and, with a flick of his wrist, it was away in safe keeping. In a flash of blue flames, the room was empty, except for Dipper's body.

XxXxXxX

Dipper sat on the floor in front of his door, re- reading the questions he had for Bill over and over, trying to memorize each letter. His curiosity was almost overwhelming.

He was so concerned with the black and white of the page that he didn't notice that the room was also becoming black and white.

"Hey, dipping sauce."

"Bill!" Dipper said, perking up. He sprang to his feet and rushed toward the demon. "Hey, Bill, I have some questions I wanted to ask-"

Bill put his hands up, stopping Dipper. "I just dropped in to check on you. I have some important things I need to do in the castle. I know that you get lonely sometimes."

Dipper stared at Bill, his eyebrows furrowed. "But I really wanted to ask some questions about you…" he said, his gaze falling to the floor.

"Tell ya what," Bill said, putting his hand on Dipper's shoulder, "After I finish my things, I'll come back and we can have a nice chat. In the meantime, how about you go look at the stars I made for you? I know that you like them."

Dipper nodded, dejected. He really wanted to talk to Bill now, but he had waited this long. He could wait a bit longer.

Bill ruffled Dipper's hair. "Atta boy, kiddo. I'll be back soon!" Bill pointed at Dipper, and faded away.

Dipper flopped onto his bed and buried his face into his pillow. He began mumbling the questions back to himself. He was proud of himself; he had memorized them.

XxXxXxX

Bill found himself in the grand hall of the castle, opening the triangle door that resided between the double staircase. Within, the room was black, and dotted with miniscule nebulae and lone stars. Things floated aimlessly through the void, illuminated by their own energy. Books and cups floated past Bill as he drew himself to the corner. He grabbed a passing candle. It ignited with his touch.

He paused, looking around for the journal. It was several feet away, hovering above a stuffed bear.

His storage room was his favorite place. He felt so large, so fast, so grand in this space that was all his own. The room seemed vast and comforting. He enjoyed the dark blues and purples that colored the nebulae, and the calming lull of the star's muted lights.

He had put all of them in the room. They were all things he captured when he was free. When he was young, and so full of power. Yes, he was still powerful, but shortly after he was created, he had more power than those who had created him. They were easy to destroy.

He sighed, remembering the surge and the joy that came with destruction. He hadn't found much time for large scale destruction recently, though. And he found much more joy in manipulation and getting what he wanted, rather than destroying.

He reached the journal, and pulled it toward him. He may prefer getting what he wanted, but destroying the journal was exactly the kind of release he needed to stay in control of himself.

He tore out a page, and held it above the candle's flame. Nothing. He used his own fire, which was much hotter than the candle. The paper smoldered.

This was irritating. He would have to devote much more time to destruction in this place. But would it be worth it in the end, to avoid the hard eyes of the people in the Mystery Shack, and to not worry about Dipper seeing? Quite possibly.

He continued to allow the paper to rest in his flame, until the paper caught. He sighed in delight as the paper was finally consumed. This would work.

He tore out page after page, letting them float in a constellation around him. Using both hands, he set the paper aflame. He watched them burn, one by one.

The paper sizzled at times, cooling down too much. The forces in this room were bending energy itself, causing the paper to have a much higher burning temperature. Either that, or his flames were much cooler. Either way, he had been watching them burn for quite some time. However erotic he found it, he still got bored.

That was enough for now. He wanted to drag this out over a longer period of time. Plus, he had promised a certain nugget that questions would be answered.

XxXxXxX

Dipper was asleep when Bill came back.

"Hey, kiddo," Bill said gently, putting his still warm hand on the boy's back.

Dipper groggily blinked his eyes open. Bill. His instincts told him that the enemy was here. He initially recoiled.

When he realized what was happening, he relaxed.

"Oh, hey, Bill," he said, rubbing his eyes.

"You had some questions to ask, if I recall correctly," Bill said, sitting on the bed next to Dipper. He put his arm around the boy's shoulder, helping him to sit up.

"Yeah, yeah I did," Dipper said, yawning. "Um, just let me wake up a bit."

Bill smiled inwardly. This is exactly what he wanted. Dipper letting his guard down, allowing himself to get comfortable. Dipper trusted Bill on some level. Bill knew, however, that there was still a large chunk of the boy that didn't trust him. Still, he was making progress.

"I was wondering how your body functions. Do you have organs like I do?"

Bill put his hand on Dipper's knee. "Well, you see…"

XxXxXxX

"What's wrong, kid?" Stan asked.

Mable was lying on her back, arms outstretched, in the middle of the living room floor.

"It's Dipper," she sighed. "He's still acting weird."

"I noticed that, too. We're gonna have to have a talk with him if he doesn't turn his attitude around. It's bad for business," Stan said, opening his pop can.

"I thought he might fix this himself; ya know, snap out of it," Mable said. "I mean, he's never had a mood shift like this before. I don't know what I can do. I'm just worried about him."

"Me too, kid."

"Hey, Grunkle Stan," Mable said.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna know something funny that happened with Dipper today?" Mable said, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

"I walked into our room, and he was standing at the window, and I swear, the weirdest thing happened. I could have sworn his shadow was a giant pyramid or something. And then I was blinking, because I just couldn't believe it, and the lights just turned on by themselves. Isn't that weird?"

Stan grew rigid in his chair. "Yeah, that's really weird. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have something I gotta do." He stood, walked into his office, and shut the door without another word.

Mable sighed. She felt so alone.

**AN: **Sorry for the hiatus. I have a paper due Monday that I'm avoiding. So here's the next chapter. Eid Mubarak, Hanukkah sameach, Happy Kwanzaa, and Merry Christmas! Have a wonderful holiday season.


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